Molly Fisk: Younger Friends

1183108855_301862f316_zPhoto by Raul Lieberwirth via Flickr (Creative Commons License)

Today I had lunch with a 27-year-old man, the son of a friend. I think “man” is the right word, although it’s hard for me not to think of male people as boys if I’ve known them when they were under 18. I still think my 53-year-old brother is about ten, to his extreme disgust.

This young man and I met through his family, and have mostly done things together in a family setting: played Boggle, eaten Thanksgiving dinners, blown out or watched someone else blow out birthday candles. But one day we ran into each other at the co-op buying sandwiches, and sat down to eat them together. Thus was established our secret lunch-date routine.

That time we talked about relationships. He was getting out of one that caused him great pain, and I was getting into one and nervous about it. This time we talked about them again, because I just got out of the one I was getting into then, and he’s having a good time not being in one and going to lots of music festivals.

I should perhaps make it clear that this is not a romantic connection, even though I adore him. He does meet one of my criteria, since he can name all four Beatles. And he’s cute as can be. But I’m not looking for someone young enough to be my child. What I like is the energy of people young enough to be my children, which I don’t get anywhere else, since I don’t have kids of my own. There’s so much fun stuff going on in the world that this age group is interested in and I know nothing about.

Like hacky-sack, for instance. Who knew that people able to toss a bean-bag-like item back and forth with their feet had world championships? And won money for doing this? I guess if you can win money for playing a game as idiotic as golf, anything’s possible.

I have other young men in my life: a poetry student with whom I drink coffee, a godson, my favorite ex-boyfriend’s nephews. It’s fun to talk to them, they’re so jazzed about life. I have to take certain things with a grain of salt, though, especially when they advise me on matters of the heart. They’re very helpful at explaining how the male mind works, and what I ought to pay attention to — if a man says he wants multiple partners, I should believe it. But revenge-sex, for instance, is an activity best reserved for guys in their 20’s, not gals in their 60’s. At least not this gal in her 60’s, who has learned to leave revenge alone in all of its forms.

When I gasp at their suggestions, we burst out laughing. It’s nice they’re not really my kids and I’m not really their parent. We aren’t responsible for each other, and that gives us a lovely kind of freedom.


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  • hillsmom April 23, 2016 at 5:56 pm

    Yes Molly, good for you. Have you noticed that when you don’t see the children of friends for a time, you tend to be surprised that they have changed so very much? Just wondered if I’m the only one with that problem 😎